Divinity
by Emeralddusk
Summary: Servatis a periculum, servatis a maleficum. Kyle, what does this life mean to you? What is destiny if it falls? What defines darkness when out of the presence of light? Stan/Wendy, Stan/Kyle.
1. Act I: The Edge

Divinity

Act I: The Edge

 _When we were young, they taught us how to tell time. "How many seconds in a minute? How many minutes in an hour? How many hours in a day?" When we started getting older, we started asking ourselves worse questions, like, "How many hours until the day is gone? How many minutes does it take to fall asleep? How many hours are in forever?" It's a losing game: It always has been. Time only flies while we're at peace, or when we need more of it. When we're unhappy or alone, it drags on forever, like a curse. When I was in first grade, I found a book in my friend Kyle's backpack. It was called 'Prayer of the Masochist'. I didn't know or understand what it was, but I picked it up and read as best I could for hours. "How many hours in a day?" All that matters is what time the sun goes away. Once I finished the book, I closed it, dropped it on the floor of my room, and cried. That was years ago. I'm closer to an adult now, but I never forgot that book. My name is Stan Marsh. I've lived in South Park all my life with my mom, dad, and sister, Shelly. My best friend's name is Kyle Broflovski, my girlfriend since first grade is Wendy Testaburger, Kenny McCormick is my closest friend next to Kyle, I love Butters like a little brother, and Cartman is…a friend. We were all together when it happened. It all happens so fast. "How many moments in a second? How many breaths in an instant?" As it happens, I just close my eyes._

 _"Jew! Jew! Filthy Jew! Bastard!" It never ends. It'll be like this forever. Why doesn't anyone do something? How can everybody take it like a joke and act like I'm not crying? What did I do to bring this on myself? Did I just fuck up too many times? I'm not a bad guy. I do the best I can: I know it's not much, but I'm trying. Mom…Dad…Ike…I'm sorry. I've just been fighting too long. I've been through too much pain: Too much pain. Whatever came out…it wasn't me anymore. I don't remember who I was. All I can identify with is this ugly_ _ **thing**_ _I've become. It's been so long…I can still hear him crying from across the hall when I close my eyes long enough. I still smell her perfume. I still see his face. It's been so long. "Then what do you want?" Stan demanded of me that day. "…I want you to kill me," I answered, staring my best friend directly in the eye. He looked so shocked and hurt. "Don't worry," I pleaded, not noticing how badly I was breaking apart. "It wouldn't be a sin. I_ _ **want**_ _you to do it…Please." A part of me still hates myself for doing that to him. Even more, I'm troubled by the fact that he didn't do it. I'm sorry, Stan. You know I still love you, right? My name is Kyle Broflovski, I might have a little brother named Ike, my parents are still together, I'm Jewish and devout and proud of it, Stan is my best friend, Kenny is like a brother to me, and Cartman is my punishment. Like Pyramid Head, I need him to punish me for my sins. My mind breaks up into flashes of white light when I try to describe or even remember what happened. It was all so fast. Sometimes, when I'm half-awake and lying down, I have to physically take stock of my body just to make sure I'm still here. I place my right hand on my left shoulder, then my right leg, left leg, face, chest, and then my right palm. I'm always all there. I feel like I'm drifting sometimes, though. Ever since it happened._

 _The problem with having sexuality is that it doesn't take you anywhere. It's like a drug constantly inside me: Strike to start the fire. Then, I'm safe for a little while. There's nothing to protect me in the mornings, though. Or at night, or when I open my eyes and the sun is still out. There's just something so ugly about the whole thing, but it's an escape. I'm in the greatest pain when I'm at home: my parents drinking, screaming, fighting, or neglecting us. I hate being alone, though. Karen's the only one I have. The only time I'm strong is when I'm protecting her. I hope and pray that she never becomes what I am. The more torrid, depraved, and isolated my fantasies become, the better the high, and the more crushing the low. I see how much Kyle suffers, thinking he's the worst of us all. But he's wrong. There are nights when I'm so hungry I pass out. When I do, I always try to keep Karen nearby, just so I know that she's safe. I pray she doesn't see me as I am, though. It would only make her cry and worry. Karen is what I hold on to. Eric Cartman has always been my best friend, but Stan, Kyle, and Butters aren't far behind. I love them with all my heart, even though I know I don't belong with them. I try to do what I can to help, so the guilt isn't so present. I don't know where my life is going, and that was okay for awhile, but things are starting to change, and I'm scared. My soul is drifting to something I don't know, and I don't think it's ever going to end. When I was in the hospital years ago, they gave me a teddy bear to keep me company, especially during the night. Last week, I started stuffing him inside my coat, so he's always lying against my heart and shielding my body: He stays there in a constant embrace, held in place by my jacket, and I'm never truly alone. Sometimes I worry about him. When everything's going well, my mind goes to a dark place, and I develop feelings based around my little bear. I'm so afraid something I'm doing is wrong. When I don't think about him, I worry about Karen. She's the only one in this world who really needs me. When it happened, all I thought of was her, but I was only one who was able to let go. I love you, Karen._

 _This whole world is bullshit. I hate my life, my body, my mind, and everyone around me. What really pisses me off is that the world didn't always seem this way. I always used to think the world hated me, and that gave me comfort: It was only what I_ _ **thought**_ _. Now, I know the truth, and I'm outraged. How'd everything turn so evil? How did I get so ugly? I'm sorry for all the shit I've done, but I know I'll never change. I glance over at Wendy on the other row of seats on the bus, and she's already staring at me. I know what she's thinking: Judging me, hating me. I know what she is, though. On the inside, she's just as ugly as I am. She tries, though. Every single bite of food is like fire: all it does is eat me up and leave me even emptier than before. The water I drink is cancer, and my mouth is filled with sores. I'm a monster. Everyone knows that. Kenny's the only one I have, but I can't let him get dragged down with me. The only person in my life that I truly care about…is my mom. I don't want to be with these people, spending money and wasting time and effort: I just want her. I used to cry when I was young, worrying about what her life was like when she was alone. I felt empty and sick, hating this_ _ **thing**_ _I was inside. She's the only one I haven't wronged. Butters, Stan, Kyle, and Clyde hate me, but we're close enough to be happy. I didn't think of myself when it happened, but I've doing nothing but recently._

 _I thought what I was doing made a difference. I thought what I was doing was right. Now, I don't know what the hell I'm trying to do. My dreams are crumbling, and this inherent guilt is burning me. Maybe I screwed up. Maybe there's nothing left for me anymore. I feel like I'm drenched in sin and mistakes. Everything I was focused on feels wrong, and the hours of every day feel wasted. Stan and I are here to save each other: Nothing more and nothing less than that. We keep each other from taking on our truths. We make sure we never get what we deserve. Stan really is a good person, but I keep holding him down. I think I heard him crying last night, feeling so weighed down by what I put on him. My relationship with him only brings out my cruelty. 'O, that this too-solid flesh would melt.' I swear I believe in Heaven. I'm ready for that reality. When everything was fine, I assumed I was living the right way. Now, I have no certainty. I feel filthy. When it happened, I was scared, but now I'm ready._

Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Kenny McCormick, Eric Cartman, Wendy Testaburger, Butters Stotch, Tweek Tweak, Bebe Stevens, Clyde Donovan, and Craig Tucker sat next to one another on the bus, talking, laughing, singing, and simply hanging out. Stan and Wendy sat with Kyle while Kenny, Eric, and Butters shared the front seat. Bebe and Craig shared a one-sided conversation while Tweek, Damien, and Clyde each sat alone. Several other students were present, but they kept to themselves, staring out the window at the fast-moving landscape around them. It was a day like any other: a field trip to someplace new. Everyone was excited, though they remained in their normal state of mind. Nothing groundbreaking was going to happen: no changes, no insights, no growth, and nothing that couldn't be walked away from.

 _"How many seconds in a moment?"_ Down every new road, the process is always the same. Everything moves forward, almost without thought. _It takes just a breeze to cause a storm…Just a breath to cause a scream…_ The scream of a frightened woman tore through the air, the axle smashed into something hard, the bus never stopped, the speed increased rapidly, and the world outside the window became nothing but a growing horizon of running water. The glass broke, something snapped, friends were separated, laughter turned to screams, screams turned to silence, and the bus continued to move as the students' bodies remained still, most of them phasing through broken windows or an open door. The fall was like a dream: no sensory perception, no sound, no logic, and no set amount of time. Then, within an instant, it was over, and the world was new.

Too weak to open her eyes, Wendy chose to remain still, her back secure against what must have been the ground. Time dragged by slowly, and she finally gathered the will to force herself into a seated position. The bus was gone, the ground was rigid and entirely sand, and an unknown body of water was nearby. Nothing looked familiar in any sense. Leary of a potential injury to her spine, the raven-haired girl slowly rose to her feet, using her arms to assist her. At last, she stood on her own feet and looked around: The sun was several hours past its zenith, no land existed past the watery horizon, and further inland consisted of massive, red rock formations, gulches, and scattered vegetation. Her eyes quickly growing weary, Wendy spotted something in the sea. He was lifeless, floating without control or bodily involvement as his longer, brown hair slowly waved along the surface of the gentle waves. "Is anyone here?" the young woman called out, her fading awareness struggling to latch onto something.

His mind dethatched from his body, Kyle shut the world out, unable to hear, see, smell, or feel anything. _No,_ he cried out to himself, becoming aware of his presence. _I'm not ready yet._ Soon, his eyes opened, though his vision was obscured by something abnormal. Feeling it would pass, the Jewish young man looked down at himself: His left arm was around his stomach, as if guarding or resting on it, both legs out of sight, and his chest suddenly splashed with blood that appeared dry. Breathing was hard. Although he had returned to his flesh, his body was not yet his own. Something paralyzed him. A distant voice called out from the past, calling for Kyle, who listened intently. He never intended or thought to answer, but he took it in. A strong but gentle hand grabbed his seemingly absent right arm, pulling him into a seated position. The voice continued on as a faint but familiar form found his legs and forced them into sight. "What was the question?" She repeated her question, breaking through this time. "Kyle," Wendy said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure," the redheaded boy answered. "Do you see anything?" Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, Kyle let his head slip to the side, too tired to stay upright.

"Your left hand looks broken," Wendy declared. "Like it's been smashed. You've got to hold still; there's a ton of glass shards in you. I can only take out a few. The others are too close to nerves and organs." Kyle nodded, closing his eyes tightly. Soon, he was able to stand with his friend's help. Aside from his broken hand, there was no notable pain. Most of the glass came out easily, freeing the boy's body to a degree. Sometime later, Wendy told him that there was an abnormal glass formation extruding just about his left eye and partially covering it. It wouldn't damage his sight, but trying to remove it would be too risky for the time being. "Can you walk?"

"I think so," Kyle answered, slowly edging forward. "When you found my legs…they weren't up my ass, were they?" The two laughed, recalling an old game of Red Rover. "Have you found anyone else?"

Remembering Clyde, Wendy detached herself, and shook her head. "As stupid as this sounds, we should probably just start calling out for someone. My phone's gone." The redheaded young man pulled a crumbled plastic and glass shape from his pocket before tossing it aside: His phone was out of the question. "Hello?!" they began hollering. "Is anybody here?!"

"We need help!" Kyle cried out, cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling with all his might. "Is anyone here?!" His stress and fear bubbling beneath the surface, the boy began overturning small stones and stray patches of brush.

Wendy made her way towards a wooded spot, making sure to remain on the beach. Placing her hand on a thin tree, the raven-haired girl felt something wet her palm. Pulling herself away, she looked to see her palm and fingers stained with warm blood. Looking up, Wendy's jaw dropped at the sight lingering above her: What appeared to be a massive nest of spider webs, composed entirely of gel-like blood mixed with traces of bone, with Damien's lifeless form tangled and contorted at its center, connected the two neighboring trees. Individual streams of plasma fell to the ground like raindrops around the horrified child. Slowly taking herself back, Wendy couldn't help but stare at the nightmare before her. _Did it breathe?_ Sharply turning her head, the young woman saw Kyle desperately searching, digging through the sand. "Kyle," the girl cried out, running to her friend.

By the time the beach had been completely searched, the sun was setting, and darkness began to spread over the earth. Keeping track of his steps off the sand, Kyle approached a tall enclosure that cleaved into two separate rocks towards the top. Enough space existed to slip in between them, though the boy remained on the outside. A subtle sound of rocks colliding drew his attention to the bottom of what now resembled a canyon. "Wendy!" Kyle cried out, seeing a familiar form among the stones. The black-haired girl turned on her flashlight, followed her friend's voice, and settled just in front of the stones to shed light into its depths.

"Stan!" Wendy cried out, her heart pounding. He was alive, and simply having found him gave the two some relief, but something was wrong. "Stan, can you hear me?" His head leaned back, trying to rest somewhere, the boy didn't answer. "It's not that deep. Kyle, if I can get down there and get Stan, can you pull us out?"

"I think I should go in," the Jewish young man answered. Pain began to flow through his crushed hand, but it wasn't enough to stop him. "I owe him that. Please, just keep the flashlight on _him_." Kyle slowly, carefully climbed onto the small ledge, felt around with his feet and free hand, and gently walked over the rocks lining the ground. Looking back for a second, the boy could see to the ocean, suggesting an elevation in land in favor of the forest he hadn't picked up on. "Okay, Stan…It's me, Kyle. It's just me, Wendy, and you…I'm coming to get you. You're gonna be okay." Keeping his left arm wrapped around his stomach, the redhead reached out his right hand, treading over loose rocks. Stan began to groan. Suddenly, Kyle slipped on an uneven rock, recovering by putting his weight against the unseen wall to his left, though it caused a jolt that jerked his broken hand outward. Tightly pressing his teeth together, he motioned to Wendy that he was alright, and slowly proceeded towards his friend. "I'm here, Stan. I'm right beside you. Wendy, can you shine lift the light higher and tilt it down?" Wendy did as instructed, giving Kyle a better look at his friend. "Oh, god," he exclaimed under his breath. "Stan? Stan, can you hear me?"

"Where am I?" the dark-haired boy replied, his voice hoarse and cracking.

"Don't move," Kyle ordered, his tone sounding more desperate than he planned. "Can you hear me okay?" Stan nodded. "There was a crash…Your left arm is crushed under a rock. Wendy and I are okay. You're gonna be alright; just hold still." Walking forward, Kyle felt around the rock on Stan's hand, being careful not to move it. "Damn it," he sharply exhaled. "It's stuck, Stan. The rock is stuck. It's wedged in too tight. I can't move it."

"I can't feel it," Stan whispered. "Is it bad?"

"I can't really see it right now," Kyle calmly answered. "You're gonna be okay, though. How do you feel? Do you need anything?"

"Water," the dark-haired boy begged, leaning his head back as pain washed through his bowels. "Please."

"I'll get you water," Kyle answered, trying so hard to stay strong. "We'll find water and we'll bring it to you. You'll be okay."

"Can someone stay?" Stan desperately asked. "With me? Can someone stay here with me? I don't want to be alone. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Stan," the Jewish young man replied. "I'll stay with you. Wendy, can you bring back some water, please? I can't get you back out if you take my place."

"Just stay close," Wendy answered. "I'll do what I can. Just don't go anywhere, Kyle." Kyle nodded. With that, the girl hooked the flashlight onto her coat, searched for something to hold drinkable water, and made her way back towards the beach.

Turning towards his friend, Kyle made out the shape in the dark. "How do you feel?" he asked, trying to comfort the boy who had been like a brother to him since the day they met.

"Like shit," Stan answered with a slight laugh. Kyle smiled, breaking into laughter as well. "Is everybody okay?"

The truth didn't matter: not now. "We're still looking," the redheaded boy answered. "We're gonna be okay…" Images of the dead flashed by like lightning: The last thing he saw before Wendy called to him was the dried tears on the girl's face. "All of us." His body weak, Stan allowed himself to smile, taking comfort in the immediate. "Hey," Kyle lovingly chuckled under his breath, warmly embracing his brother, who returned the gesture with his right arm. Acting on emotion, the only reliable thing in void, fucked up, utter chaos, the Jewish boy quickly kissed his friend on the forehead, keeping his grip on him firm. Stan understood, his own grip on Kyle remaining strong.

Soon, Wendy came back with a plastic bottle filled with water from the sea, long, thin stick, and her jacket and a small rag. "Kyle, Stan, the water around the place is drinkable," she declared. "It's not even saltwater. Kyle, I'm gonna hand this down to you. Keep it level." Wendy passed Kyle the stick, keeping it horizontal. "Stan, put the end of the stick in your mouth and tilt it up very slowly."

"Thank you," Stan exclaimed, his shaking hand taking the stick from Kyle. The first drop of water felt like nectar on the boy's dry, wounded tongue and flesh. Praising his Father, Stan drunk down the cool liquid, his breaths heavy, frequent, and relieved, allowing several small streams to slide down his face. It was beautiful: Oneness with the earth. His aching body found comfort, and his mind found peace. Soon, the water was out, but Stan was stable for the moment.

Carefully feeling the depth from the surface, Wendy crawled down into the small formation, handing Kyle the bottle and Stan the damp cloth. "Put this around your neck," she instructed. "You're close to overheating." Stan obeyed, barely able to mouth his thankfulness to his friends. "Once your body gets adjusted, take off the rag and wrap my coat around your head. The night's gonna get cold."

Taking comfort in their makeshift shelter and partial unity, the three were able to relax, sleep coming to them like an old friend. "Hey Kyle," Stan whispered once he was sure his girlfriend was asleep. Kyle moaned in response. "'Least it wasn't my whackin' hand," the raven-haired boy humbly joked. Kyle snorted in awestruck disbelief soon leading into laughter. Stan laughed like a child, never knowing that Wendy was awake and smiling warmly at him.

Once the night outlived its youth, Kyle stared up at the sky, his body settled atop the rocks. The stars were few and faint, but they were still there. The moon had abandoned its viewers, leaving little light for anything. _What if we're the only ones left?_ the boy asked himself, his fear and concern rotating in his stomach. _Please, God…don't let it end here. Please let Stan be okay. Please, help us find our friends. It's so dark here._ Closing his eyes, as if hiding from the bleak sky above, Kyle felt his broken arm, then his leg, and then his face.

Wendy looked towards the ocean, comforted by the waves as they reflected the dim light of stars. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Stan wrapped up in her jacket. He was safe for now, but tomorrow was uncertain. _What the hell am I doing?_ the black-haired girl asked herself. _How'd it all come down to this?_ The air was cruel and cold, but the girl kept her body curled up, conserving whatever heat she could. _"Wendy, your question is; do angels exist?"_ A moment of silence passed by, and Wendy reached out her hand in an attempt to touch on something. _"Yes,"_ she answered, her youthful boldness shining. _"The existence of angels is documented in various forms of the Bible. There is currently no scientific evidence that suggests they don't exist, and, if we truly believe in something, it is, in fact, real. Thank you."_ _I was young then. I'm not sure what I think now._

Gazing at the darkness that now veiled his lifeless hand, Stan felt a form of phantom pain. However, it was clear to him that his arm was no longer his own. The water was still inside of him, keeping him alive and close. The stone wouldn't move and neither would the arm. Standing up, the raven-haired boy stared at the rock, the arm, and the shadow. Without effort, Stan pulled away, leaving the worthless flesh behind: It was no longer a part of him. Without turning back, he walked away, soon joined by Kyle and Wendy, and then Kenny, Butters, and Cartman. They all knew where to go. This place, this thing, wasn't home. They all walked onward until they reached the ocean. From there, a form of ground appeared just beneath the water, and they proceeded towards South Park; to home. There was nothing on the island: Nothing left for anything. It would vanish in time and never be missed by anything.

Morning finally arose, but it was all too fast. Awakened from their dreams and happy lies by the rays of the sun, the three came back to reality. No: Back to the island. Unable to tell the dream from actuality, Stan tried to move his left hand, but there was nothing there to move. They were alone and isolated. Within an hour, the hunger pains started. Their mouths dry, Wendy, Kyle, and Stan passed around the bottle, each drinking slowly for the sake of conservation and to spare themselves pain. "Now what?" Stan begged of his friends.

"One of us has to go out," Kyle realized. "We have to find the others. I'll go…I'll keep a record of how far I go and in what directions. Is that okay, guys?"

"That's fine," Wendy accepted, knowing it was more for Kyle's sake than anything. "Take the bottle in case you get lost away from the ocean." Stan went along as well.

"Just…be careful, man," Stan instructed, his mind still in the throngs of slumbering haze.

"Thanks, guys," the redhead smiled, nearly bringing himself to tears. Taking the bottle, Kyle departed from the canyon, mentally logging his steps and direction. _The sun set in front of us,_ he told himself. _Towards the ocean is west. Turn east from the ocean and Stan and Wendy will be there. Turning towards the north, leave footprints, search the beach last this time. This whole thing sucks so much ass._

"What about food?" Stan asked, his voice starting to quake. Apprehension began to flood his body as he tried to think beyond the stone.

"We'll wait until we're all together, then we'll start planning," Wendy answered, remaining strong. "We're gonna be okay, Stan." The bodies made their way into the girl's mind, this time accompanied by what was lurking on this forsaken island. Fear or the unknown spread like a cancer, but she couldn't break down; not here.

"Mom," Stan tried to get his mother's attention. "Mom!" Sharon turned towards her son as he stared out the window. "I've never seen the waves get so close to the house before." Guided by the rain and winds of the storm, massive waves smashed against the windows of the Marsh family house, causing no damage or concern. Jolted forward, Stan felt a horrific sense of guilt come over him. "What were you telling me, Wendy?"

"You were asleep, Stan," the raven-haired girl gently answered. "I wasn't saying anything. Just relax, okay?"

"…Wendy," the boy finally mustered the strength to call out. "I'm scared. I feel like…like I still have it, but I know I'm gonna lose it…But it's here, dude…I can't think of what it'll be like when it's actually gone, you know?"

"Don't think like that, Stan," Wendy answered. "You're gonna be okay. Kyle should be back soon. He'll get help: We'll be okay."

"Thank you, Wendy," Stan sighed in relief. "I love you."

"Looks like you guys found shelter," Kyle joked, looking at Kenny, Cartman, Craig, and Bebe as they rested under large palm leaves. "Is everyone okay?"

Cartman shivered, his body struggling to adjust to the high temperatures. "F…-fuck you, Jew," he cringed, keeping his arms tightly crossed over his chest.

"We're fine," Kenny muffled, his voice calm. Several strands of the boy's thick blond hair showed from under his hood, and his left eye was closed. "Is there anyone else?"

"Stan and Wendy are back by the beach," Kyle answered, holding out his hand to help Craig up. "Where's Butters?"

"We can't find him," Bebe sobbed, her voice completely broken. "He's alone, Kyle."

"I'll find him," the redheaded boy answered. "I swear it. I just need to get you guys back to the safe zone first. Has anyone found any food?" Kenny shook his head, praying the groans of his starved stomach would remain quiet.

"We should try to find him now, before it gets late," Craig insisted. "We spent all last night looking, but he shouldn't be out for two days."

Beside himself, Kyle weighed his options to the best of his abilities. "Okay, but I need you guys to follow me to this spot first. I won't be able to find my way back if we go off from here." The kids agreed and followed their guide to a spot on the beach. Calculating, Kyle took a moment, and was then able to continue onward.

"Is there any water?" Craig asked. Glancing back, Kyle saw Craig's ashy black hair peaking out through the torn edge of his blue and yellow-poofball cap.

"All I have right now is the bottle," the Jewish young man answered, pulling the nearly full water bottle from his pocket. "I know this sounds cruel, but the thirstiest person should drink last. You look like you all need water." Passing the water to Kenny, Kyle watched the nearly emaciated boy lick his dry, cracking lips, only to pass the drink to Bebe. Taking a healthy sip, the girl passed to Craig, who took only a small drip, swished it around in his dry mouth, swallowed, and passed off to Cartman. Restraining himself, the overweight boy took one big sip, making sure to leave enough for Kenny, swallowed loudly, and gave his friend the last of it. "Thank you," Kenny weakly mumbled, giving everyone a quick look over to make sure they didn't need more.

"It's all yours, Kenny," Craig declared, licking the roof of his mouth in between words.

"Drink as much as you need," Bebe added. Kenny smiled and slowly, graciously sipped the delicious, cool, heavenly water.

"Now let's find that little fag," Cartman declared, making his way towards the other side of the beach. "Kenny, go behind us: Let us know if you see something." Kenny muffled his agreement.

"Slow down, fatass," Kyle called out, keeping track of his steps. "Bebe and Craig, can you keep an eye out for anything…not-friendly?" The two agreed, allowing Kyle and Eric to advance without second thought.

"Kyle, wait," Kenny finally called out, managing to stop the redhead for a moment. "Your arm."

"It's okay for right now, Kenny," a touched Kyle answered. "Thanks, man." The Jewish young man ran to catch up with his friend as Kenny went back into his position.

"I hope we find him," Craig told the blond-haired girl, trying to keep his voice down. Glancing forward, the nasally boy made sure Cartman wasn't listening.

"Me too," Bebe answered. "He's like a little kid…He _has_ to be okay." Craig nodded, scanning all around the area.

The air was hot and the wind failed. Over time, the sand seemed to burn, blazing Kyle's shredded shoes. Rays from the sun scorched the children without mercy, burning Bebe's exposed arms, the back of Cartman's neck, Craig's face, and Kyle's nose as Kenny merely roasted inside his coat and hood. Glancing out into the water, Bebe saw steam float along its surface. Kyle and Eric remained ahead of the others, allowing them to talk freely.

"I _know_ how you feel," the Jewish young man argued. "I really care about her, too. We just have other shit to worry about."

"That's not your call," Cartman retorted, slowly growing angry. "Where the hell is everyone?"

"Some of them are dead," Kyle answered, keeping his eyes beyond Eric, who seemed to stop short for a moment.

In the very back of the company, Kenny looked at the sky for a smoke signal, on the ground for other sets of footprints, and into the forest for signs of a way out. _I won't be gone long, Karen,_ he promised, pressing his hand to his chest to feel for the necklace. Smiling to himself, the boy resumed his watch. _If this is how it ends…I'm glad it's with friends._ Suddenly, a flicker of light caught Kenny's eye, leading him to turn towards the ocean. A woman stood between him and the sun, glistening with her own light. Her body was pure of any markings or imperfections, but her expression and body language were seductive. Pulling himself away, Kenny looked forward to see everyone else carrying on. Quickly glancing back at the water, the boy saw nothing: Nothing but empty seas and small waves. It wasn't long before the pain arose again. Grinding his teeth together, the blond boy quickly clasped his loins, let go, sighed heavily, and continued on his way.

His focus drifting, Cartman caught himself falling, colliding into the sandy ground. "Ow," he sharply whined. "Son of a… _bitch!_ " Standing up, the overweight child saw a huddled form in the sand that wore Butters' clothes. "Butters?" Crouching down, the boy put his hand on the blond child's shoulder and turned him flat on his back. Butters trembled, his eyes darting all around. "Butters! Thank God. Guys, he's here!"

"No!" Butters cried out, nearly breaking into tears. "Don't make noise! Please!" Kyle ran up to the two, gave the blond boy his hand, and pulled him onto his feet. "We're not safe…Not here."

Kyle quickly hugged his old friend, as if embracing an infant. "You're gonna be okay, Butters," he promised. "We're all gonna be okay." Acting quickly, the Jewish child wiped away Butters' tears, keeping his broken hand tight around his stomach. "Stan, Wendy, and I are safe…Same with Cartman, Bebe, Kenny, and Craig. You're going to be alright, bud." Butters tried to smile, though his fear was consuming him. "Can you walk?"

Retracing his steps, Kyle led the way as Cartman, Bebe, Craig, and Kenny, who carried Butters on his back like a koala bear, followed. _80 steps,_ the boy repeated in his mind.

"Thanks, Kenny," Butters cooed, his eyes weak and tired.

"No problem, bud," Kenny happily muffled.

"There they are," Stan happily declared, his heart happily racing. Wendy glanced back, spotting something written on the wall of rock, and turned back towards her approaching friends to wave them in.

"Holy shit!" Kenny declared, his speech muffled. The hooded boy gently set Butters down and came to Stan's side.

"It looks worse than it feels, now," Stan answered, his humor starting to reflect his sorrow. "Looks like the gang's all here…But what about Clyde and the other kids? I know there were more of us on the bus."

Clyde, Damien, Red: All of them, dead. Their bodies were already decaying. Tweek was nowhere to be found. Stan, Kyle, and Butters were injured and Eric was developing hyperthermia. There was no food, no one to call, no way for anyone to know where they were, and no one coming to save them. The only supplies they had were the ones they carried, and the night was coming. Stan, Wendy, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, Butters, Bebe, and Clyde huddled close together and stared into the ocean. The leaves above the rock formation would have to make due for the night, even though they may have been poison. For now, though, they were safe. Tomorrow might not come, but the night would go on with a speck of hope and friendship. Looking back at the wall, Wendy saw that the writing was gone. It didn't matter, though. The day would be over soon.

 _And all that stands between the soul's release…_

 _This temporary flesh and bone._

 _I know that it's over now: I feel my faded mind begin to roam._


	2. Act II: Breaking Point

Divinity

Act II: Breaking Point

The night had been so hot. There was so much noise and it was all so loud and piercing. The living room window was open, letting in the cold mountain air that danced within and atop Stan's exposed torso. Slowly returning to consciousness, the boy found himself stretched out on the couch, his hat in his right hand, and his left hand draped over his forehead. It was finally daylight, the actual time unclear, though it felt close to noon. Wendy might have been upstairs, but everything was moving so slowly. "Wendy?" Stan called out, sitting up and letting the cold wind blow his flattened black hair around the back of his head. "Wendy?" His voice seemed to echo within his home.

"I'm right here, Stan," Wendy's youthful voice answered. "Wake up, Stan."

Now awake, Stan opened his swollen, weary eyes to find himself in the rock enclosure. Looking forward, the boy saw Tweek standing before him, eyes wide open, relatively motionless until his right eye twitched shut for a second, his shirt torn and buttoned incorrectly, and his usually unkempt hair flattened and clinging to his head. Jerking his jaw downward towards the right, Tweek's head twitched.

"Tweek?" Stan asked, his eyes still adjusting to the light of morning.

Clearing his throat nervously, the anxious little boy smiled. "Hey, Stan," he said in his normal screechy, choked up voice. He had been told ahead of time about what had happened to his friends.

"He found us this morning," Wendy explained, handing her boyfriend an orange. "And he brought food."

"Thanks, man," Stan replied, graciously accepting the citrus from Wendy. "Thank you, Wendy. Do you want me to split this?"

"There's enough for everyone to have a whole one," Tweek declared, clearing his throat at the end of the sentence to avoid seeming condescending. "Try…'Scuse me. Try drinking some of the juice first." The timid child glanced around the room before settling on Wendy.

"Hey, guys," Kyle greeted his friends, entering the cavern with a makeshift sling supporting his broken arm that consisted of a long, straight stick wrapped tightly onto his mid-arm by a worn shirt and supported by the remains of a fabric bag strapped around his neck.

"Oh, god, Kyle, your feet are bleeding," the raven-haired boy exclaimed, looking at the subtle trail of blood behind his best friend. "What happened?"

"I think they're just overly worn," the redhead answered. "I took off my shoes so Kenny could borrow them. What about you? How you feeling?"

"Better, now," Stan answered, sucking on the juice from the fruit. "Thanks, Tweek. How's everyone else?"

"They're holding up," Kyle answered, glancing outside at Butters and Bebe trying to build a sand castle while Kenny sat by the sea, his bare feet cooling in the water. Butters was wearing Kyle's shoes, no doubt at Kenny's request. "We're gonna try to start a fire around noon. Maybe it'll last all night this time."

"And leave a smoke signal to any nearby boats," Wendy added, taking a seat beside her boyfriend.

"How 'bout you?" Stan asked, looking sternly at Kyle.

"I'm fine," the Jewish boy quickly replied. "I'm just…I don't know, out of it. You're looking better, though."

"Don't bullshit me, man," Stan chuckled, looking back at the graying shape that was once his arm. "I know they're gonna have to cut it off… I just feel so useless like this. I can't help you guys, someone has to stay with me."

"Don't beat yourself up, Stan," Wendy argued. "You're not exactly in the lap of luxury like this. Besides, we'll find a way to save your arm."

His throat starting to swell, the raven-haired boy flashed a quick, sorrowful smile onto his face. "I just need to get free," he declared, his voice reduced to something just above a whisper. "I don't want this anymore."

Staring at the rock that now seemed one with the arm, Kyle felt himself start to break up. There was something wrong, but this felt like the right choice. "We don't have the tools right now," he finally said, coming across as almost desensitized towards the severity of the matter. "Once we do…I think I might know how to do it."

"What?" Wendy demanded, truly shocked.

Tweek's heart began to beat faster as his stomach turned ill. His ticks were flaring up and coming faster with each passing second. This was too much. "Holy shit!" the blond boy exclaimed, his cracking voice echoing slightly within the rocks. Butters glanced at the group, somewhat able to distinguish faces in the shadows.

"We don't have a choice," Stan defended. "If people don't come and find us, this thing could kill me. It has to be done soon."

Turning away from the waves for a moment, Kenny watched Craig stand in place, appearing to be flipping off the ground. There was a slight, cool wind for a moment, and it brought the hooded little boy back to the sea.

"Hey, Kenny," Cartman said in a calm voice, taking a seat next to his friend. "You're thinking about Karen?"

"…Yeah," Kenny finally confessed, his hood muffling his words. "I haven't gone this long without talking to her since she was born. And she has no idea where I am now…You're worried about your mom?"

"Hell yeah," the overweight boy sadly admitted. "I promised I'd call her before we got there…If we don't make it back…I'm gonna die with her thinking I hate her." Cartman began to clear his throat and conceal his tears, only to feel someone take his hand away.

"She knows you wouldn't hate her," Kenny comforted his friend, his voice gentle. "Don't doubt that. I know being away from her is tearing you up."

"It's stupid," Cartman answered. "I mean, I miss her…really bad. I just…it's like I can't concentrate on anything. I'm so fucking pissed off most of the time now…You know what? Screw it. It's…" Eric abruptly got up and started walking away. "It's stupid."

"Cartman!" Kenny called out. Eric didn't look back or stop. Weak and helpless, the hooded blond boy just watched, his soul weighed down with sorrow, failure, and guilt. _I'm sorry,_ he confessed. Looking out towards the oceanic horizon, trying to avoid glances at the sun, Kenny saw an image of a little girl slowly dancing atop the water. Shocked, he stood up, fully grounded in reality. The child was, without doubt or question, Karen: She was here. Overcome by his feelings, the blond boy smiled, seeing himself reunited with his wonderful baby sister, and slowly walked into the water. Step by step, his body became submerged deeper and deeper into the cool ocean's waves, never truly getting closer to his sister. _Karen,_ he called out, knowing she could hear him without words. Suddenly, an unseen force took hold of him and pulled him back, knocking the hooded child underwater. The same force pulling him back onto his feet, Kenny lost sight of the girl, no longer wishing to go forward.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bebe demanded as she dragged the blond boy onto the beach. "You were up to your neck, your clothes are soaked, there's no way you could've swam with that coat on…"

"I thought I saw her," Kenny explained, his voice weak and humbled. "I was so close…I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"Take off everything," the blond girl instructed. "You're gonna get hypothermia and be dead by tonight, Kenny. We've got a fire going, so sit down by there. We'll try to get your clothes dry as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry," Kenny gave in, growing depressed and ashamed.

"No, Kenny, it's not your fault, it's just…" Bebe replied. "Have you had anything to eat or drink today? You're probably dehydrated."

"I can't remember," the hooded boy confessed, unbuttoning his coat. "I don't need to eat alot, Bebe."

"You're half starved, Kenny," the girl argued. "You need food and water more than any of us…Even Cartman." The two began to laugh, causing Kenny to double over and squeal without control, just like when he was a baby. Managing to settle herself down, Bebe looked at her friend. "You have a beautiful laugh. You know that?" Kenny finally took his hood down and removed his coat, revealing his pure, playfully unkempt blond hair, soft cheeks, large, doe-like eyes, compassionate aura, and glorious smile. All things considered, he was angelic. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you without your hood on before."

"Really?" Kenny asked, his voice calm and gentle. Bebe nodded. Watching from a distance, Butters saw the two and smiled before continuing on his castle.

"It's just too weird," Craig explained to Tweek. "I don't even know how we got here." Unable to settle himself, Tweek twitched, blinked repeatedly, and ruffled his nose as his friend spoke: It was all habit and no mentality or consent. "Now…every time I try to touch it, I start thinking of his hideous things. It scared me when it first started, but now I'm starting to like it. I feel horrible for days after it, but…what do you do with all that?"

"I'm not sure," Tweek screeched, avoiding eye contact at all costs. "Maybe…talk to your priest, er…something." _I have to get out of here…my medication's running out. Oh, god, I don't know what's gonna come out if I come off it._

"I don't know," Craig answered, staring at the ground. "I hate it. I hate what's down there. I just…I can't stop." Tweek put his arm around his friend, resting his hand on Craig's left shoulder.

"It _has_ to be you, Kyle," Stan declared, his voice gentle. "You're the only one I want to see me like this. I'm sorry for that, though."

"I know you are," Kyle accepted, grinding a small knife against a rock lodged in place near the cave wall. The boy's outward composure had been breaking down from what was inside of him: The disbelief towards the whole situation made his forehead subtly wrinkle, the fear for his family, especially Ike, caused his heart to pound frequently, guilt and apprehension for what he would have to do kept him from sleeping and left his eyes bloodshot and surrounded by dark bags, and the feeling of helplessness and anxiety sickened his stomach and prevented him from eating what he needed, leaving him thin and slightly gray. "It's not your fault, dude. Shit happens."

"Speaking of which," the raven-haired boy replied. "How's _your_ arm doing?"

"It hurts, but I'll be alright," the redhead answered. Hearing rocks rumbling together, Kyle turned around.

"Hey, Kyle," Wendy said, climbing down into the gulch along with Butters. "Bebe and Kenny need your help with something."

"Oh…okay," the Jewish young man answered before turning back to Stan. "You'll be okay, man. It'll be over before you know it." Pausing for a moment, the redheaded little boy smiled at his friend; that smile that only Kyle Broflovski could make.

"I know," Stan smiled back, his voice just above an intimate whisper. With that, Kyle walked towards the rise, where Butters jumped onto the ledge and climbed up and Wendy crouched down to allow the wounded child to step up on her back. From there, Butters took Kyle's right hand and helped pull him up onto ground level. The two shared a quiet conversation as they walked towards their friends on the beach, unaware that Stan was watching them.

"Stan…" Wendy nervously began. "I'm sorry to put you through this, but…I had the dream again last night."

"Which one?" Stan asked, his concern sincere. For an instant, a flash of subtle but sharp pain flared through his crushed arm, causing him to wince for a second without his girlfriend noticing.

"The one where we leave here," the raven-haired little girl answered, struggling to maintain eye contact. "When we're back home…and I'm all by myself at night. Then, I start eating…and eating and eating. Like an animal…but I just have this…appetite. In the end, I'm so fat and bloated I can't hardly move, but it feels right. Then you walk in, and you're the same as me. And we have this appetite…and then we…and it's like something out of a horror movie. But we're hungry for it. All our vices. I hate myself."

"…I hate me too," the blue-eyed boy agreed, his voice close to cracking.

 _We've been here almost three weeks now,_ Kyle explained to himself. _No one's coming to save us. Haven't seen one animal this entire time. At least that means nothing's out there to come after us. Our food source is starting to run low. I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. I'm gonna have to operate on Stan soon. Bebe told me something I can't understand or forget. It gets so cold here at night. But it's so hot every day. I don't think my arm is healing. The pain's gone, but it's still…ugly. None of our scars are fading here. Kenny's been way too close to the water. Bebe watches him, but there's something wrong with him. Wendy and Stan are getting quiet, just like Cartman. Tweek and Craig are getting emaciated. Butters is scared all the time now. At this point, I can't remember what my house looked like. I see Ike sometimes. I know he's now there, but it gives me comfort to hold him. The winds here just aren't the same: It's like they're whispering. I'm so tired. There's no moon or stars tonight._

"They say that nature is Satan's church," Craig declared, hugging his knees against his chest.

"Then what's this place?" Bebe replied, her spine chilled. "I can't sense a heaven from here. Do you feel anything?"

"I haven't felt anything since we got here," the black-haired boy answered plainly. "This is hell…It's just hell. If there _is_ a hell, we're living in it. We've been here too long, Bebe…We're breaking."

"I think we've already broken," the young woman replied. "We're corpses walking and eating: We are sin." Bowing his head in shame, Craig pointed his middle finger against his head and raised his thumb to form a gun-shape. "Where would we go?" Bebe questioned the boy's suicidal gesture. "This is hell…where would we go?"

"I think we'd just cease of exist," Craig sorrowfully answered. "We've got no souls… Nothing immortal inside of us. All we have is misery, and our vices." Silence filled the air around the two.

"What's that mean for everyone around us?" the blond girl replied, growing nervous. Craig looked away. "We can't ever leave…can we?"

"…No," the black-haired boy sighed, his heart shattered. "Never. This is the only place where things like us can be."

"…Is there a God?" Bebe asked the winds, her emotions fading slowly. The answer was clear inside of the monster within. "We have to be there when they cut Stan."


	3. Act II: Chapter Two

Divinity

Act II:

Chapter Two

 _The Hierarchy of Needs states that our mentality will bend around that which we need most. When faced with starvation, fear, and freezing cold nights, this system dictates that our minds are completely focused on survival. The system is wrong. What they never accounted for was a moral surge within the individuals being observed. Somewhere between the isolation, hopelessness, fear, and hunger, we found something: A truth. Maybe we were here for a reason. Maybe we were supposed to wind up here to suffer for all the mistakes we've made. We all came to realize this and agree to a form of compromise. Stan was trapped in stone, but he was the most devoted to the idea. We set aside the oranges Tweek found us, drank heavily from the ocean, and deprived ourselves more and more with each passing day. For days, we ate grass and drank water. Nights were still freezing, especially once we started losing weight. On those nights, we stayed close. This was our destiny for the time being. We were free from vice or further wrongs. This was our Purgatory. My name is Wendy._

His eyes weak and heavy, Stan stood up, trying to keep up the strength in his legs, and stared into the distant ocean. The night was warmer than most, but still no moon. _It's okay to eat fish…Because they don't have any feelings._ His stomach groaning and cramping, the raven-haired boy prayed, never taking his eyes off the waves. Soon, the seas began to stir, and the waves crashed harder and harder against the island. In time, they reached the rock formation and slammed down upon it. Without fear or struggle, Stan allowed himself to be carried away by the sea. It seemed right to go from stone to water without anything human in between. The currents were strong as the waves filled his eyes. His body was numb and useless as it flowed further and further into nothingness. Kyle and Kenny would come soon. Wendy would be there, too; to hold his hand. She was always there.

They say that tears first came from angels. When they came near the earth during the time of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, they wept for the two. Tears landed in the eyes of both Adam and Eve, and they learned to cry. After their exile, they cried often. Maybe angels cry, too, but humans do it to remember that they're still alive. Machines and stone and water can't cry. Only a living thing can cry now. Each tear tasted salty and warm, but they were water when there seemed to be little. Living in shame, living in sorrow, the children accepted their pain, never daring to hope for anything more. It was alright for awhile, but it could never be happiness.

Laying Tweek down atop softened rocks, Wendy lovingly glided her hands down his eye lids, finally allowing the poor boy to sleep. The blessing was that the day had gone. Stan felt as the rock did that night, but he was able to let go. Kenny cried inside his hood, muffling his moans and gasps and absorbing his tears. Cartman thought only of his mother. Butters cried aloud, not knowing anyone could hear him. Soon, Kenny wrapped his arms around him, and the two fell asleep. Kyle stared up at the heavens as he knelt in prayer. Tweek slept for the first time in so long, thanks to Wendy, who was silent and still. Craig watched Bebe as she stared into the shadows in the cavern.

All punishments come to an end. Those enduring them are the only ones who know when it's truly over, and that day came. They were free to walk and eat and drink water and feel forgiven, even if they couldn't forgive themselves.


	4. Act III: Inferno

Divinity

Act III: Inferno

 _I swear I touched Heaven. I swear it was right in front of me: Inches away. Reaching out my hand, I got close enough to feel a glimpse of its warmth as it radiated wildly. Then, it was over, and I fell from the stars and lights. I screamed, but the void swallowed the sound, rendering me mute. I wished that I could tear out my eyes in an attempt to not see that divine light as it escaped me. Tears poured from my burning pupils, but I couldn't look away. I've always wanted wings. That way, I could just fly away from all the pain; all the suffering; all the lies; all the pain. But now I'm here, breaking down and useless._ Placing the sharpened blade into the flames, Kyle felt the handle grow warm. Tears slipping from his eyes sizzled as they dropped into the fire. For better or worse, no one was there to see or hear him when he cried.

'Days without nightmares' was written somewhere on the cave wall. Collections of tallies had been done with a small rock, leaving white scratches in series of seven (four, then a slash, and then two lines on their own). At this point, Stan had made four weeks' worth of tallies, nearly every one slashed out with a streak of red. At this point, the phantom pain had vanished, leaving a feeling of incompleteness in his body that spread like a virus. _Come soon, Kyle,_ Stan prayed to himself.

"Do you believe in the antichrist?" Bebe asked Craig one morning while they sat atop the warm sand. Kenny glanced over at them, not wanting them to notice him. His hood was off, allowing cool winds to kiss his cheeks. "I think it's coming from this island."

"What is he?" Craig asked, wide-eyed. His voice lacked emotion, but his interest was obvious.

"Nothing knows," Bebe answered, as if in a trance. "It's not human, though. But it looks like a human. It comes from here: It comes from nature. And it's someone that everybody trusts." Kenny looked down at himself in disgrace. "I don't even know if it knows it's the antichrist. One way or another, it'll lead the world into darkness."

"Real darkness?" the raven-haired boy inquired. Bebe nodded. "I'm ready."

"Me too," Bebe agreed. "It's the only thing getting off this island. It's the only way it's right."

The antichrist has no mercy, no guilt, and no understanding of pain. He comes to mislead the innocent, to taint the holy, and to kill. His reign is one of darkness and sin. All who follow him will die, and all who oppose him will be killed. There used to be such a difference between dying and being killed. A life eternal has its limits, and even its end. Eternity is relative, as Kenny knew well. His hands trembling, the young boy pulled his hood up and tightened its strings, concealing most of his heavenly little face. In retrospect, it was all so ugly. Now, the truth was made known. It could have been so beautiful, but the secret was meant to be revealed. Bebe and Craig had to be the ones to bring it up. However, it was a cruel wind that whispered the secrets.

 _God…I'm so sorry,_ Kenny confessed in his mind, his pulse racing and his palms sweating. _I'm trying…I'm trying so hard. I don't want to fail you._ Karen still walks across the waters. The voice is still so close. The sun is getting low. _I can't even say goodbye,_ the blond boy cried to himself, glancing at the cave where Stan, Kyle, Eric, Butters, and Wendy must have been. His doe eyes welling up with hot tears, Kenny snuffed back his sobs, removed his hoodie and placed it on the sand, gathered some rocks, and put them in his pant pockets. _I tried to be a good person, Father. I really tried. I made so many mistakes, and I'm sorry for all of them. Please, send someone to save my friends. Don't let them die here. And please…send an angel to take care of Karen. She loves You so much. Just…just don't send me to watch her…I'd only hurt her._ The sun had faded by the time Kenny reached the ocean. The waves were calm at first, but they began to rage as time went by. _I can't say goodbye. They have to hate me. I'm the antichrist…and I have been my whole life. I wasn't born. I came from this evil place. This is the only good I can do. I'm sorry, God. I'm sorry, Karen. Mom, Dad, Kevin…I'm sorry, Butters, Eric, Stan, Kyle, Wendy…Goodbye, you guys._ Stepping foot into the waves, Kenny took one last glance back at his loved ones, sobbed quietly, and turned to the ocean, where nothing awaited him. Step by step, the poor little boy slowly sunk down deeper, as if washed away by the sea. The weight of the rocks was enough to hold him down. Soon, he was up to his neck. _Father…I've sinned. I'm sorry, though. Please…if I'm worth it, take me into Your loving arms…_ The waves washed over Kenny's sweet head, hiding his pure blond locks from the world. _…And never let me go._ Closing his loving eyes, the child breathed no more.

The pain started days ago. All the medication was gone, and it hurt. Pressing his hand to his aching heart, Tweek winced for an instant, but put himself aside to carry on. His stomach pain prevented him from eating, slowly creating an ulcer. The jitters and ticks were no longer constant: His body was too weak and tired to become hyperactive again. His mind drifting, eyes heavy, Tweek walked towards the canyon, all ambition and comfort gone and distant to him. He didn't like what the waters said when the waves crashed, and the night brought greater fear. A tiger could come, curl up around him, and give him support and warmth, but now wasn't the time. Sweat trickled off his neck, some of it icy, some of it warm. _Oh, man,_ he sighed. _I hate this. I don't wanna live anymore. I just want out._ Maybe Wendy would hold him, keep him from crying. The sand screamed when his foot dug into it, causing him to shriek loudly.

"Shut up, asshole," Cartman angrily cried out. Tweek continued walking, his mind drawing connections to the number of steps and what caused the screams. Finally, he made it to the rocks and jumped in. Wendy, Stan, Butters, and Kyle were already there. "Where's Bebe and Craig?" the tense little boy asked.

"I think they're with Kenny," Kyle answered calmly. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I haven't seen them, and I've been all over the beach," Tweek explained. "I'm getting really worried."

"I can tell," Stan replied. "Tweek, why don't you hang with us for awhile? Kyle, could you and Cartman help find Kenny and the gang?"

Glancing out at Eric, who was sitting against a tree, seemingly talking to himself, Kyle sadly turned away, looking Stan in the eye with a look of sorrow on his withered face. "Maybe Butters and I should go," he coined. "Is that okay with you, Butters?"

"Sure thing, Kyle," the blond little boy answered, hopping up from his seat. "You want me to go get Eric, fellas?"

"I think we're okay," Wendy replied. "He looks like he needs some time alone, anyway." The two boys departed from their friends and set out to find their missing loved ones.

Tweek sat beside Stan, gently brushing his hand over the rock and wishing he could take the boy's place. "You're gonna be okay, Stan," he squeaked, trying to get his throat restrictions under control.

"Thanks, man," Stan replied with a smile. "You still okay?"

"I'm fine," Tweek lied, his left eye twitching. "Wendy, are you…"

"I'm good, Tweek," the raven-haired girl answered. "Thank you."

Walking along the shore, Kyle couldn't help but look at the ocean in the hopes of seeing a rescue boat. However, there was nothing there. "Butters, I'm gonna check further inland," the Jewish boy declared. "Can you stay on the beach and watch for company?"

"Can do," Butters answered, giving a joking salute. The little blond boy began looking over the shore, taking glances at the ocean.

Attempting to clench his broken hand, Kyle's attention drifted away until he stepped on something that caught his foot. Shooting his glance down to the ground, the boy saw Kenny's jacket wrapped around his shoe. Gradually lowering himself into a seated position, he made sure Butters wasn't looking, pulled the jacket off, and unfolded it before himself. _Oh dear god, no,_ Kyle begged, looking around and seeing no sign of his beloved friend. Quickly realizing what must have happened, the boy tightly clenched the orange hoodie and pressed it against his heart, as if hugging Kenny one last time. _No, Kenny,_ he sobbed, tightly shutting his eyes and allowing himself to cry. However, Butters couldn't know; not yet. The little hoodie still smelled like him. In some ways, it was better this way: No goodbye, no closure: Just the dreams and the memories. _Rest in peace forever and ever,_ Kyle bid farewell to his sweet friend.

Without his knowing, the hours passed Kyle by. Time was meaningless right now, and only an outside force could move an immobile object. "Kyle!" Butter's voice broke the silence. "They're here!" Snapping out of his trance, the redheaded boy tucked the sweater into his own jacket and ran towards Butters.

On the beach, Bebe and Craig stood still, dressed entirely in black garments and fabrics. "What the hell happened to you guys?" Kyle demanded, his anger getting the best of him. "Where'd you go? Where'd you find those clothes? And why, in hell, did you go without telling anyone?"

"We can't tell you anything yet," Bebe answered, her voice crackling and free of emotion.

"What the _fuck_ does that mean?" Kyle shouted, not meaning to go off in front of Butters.

"Have you done the operation on Stan yet?" Craig replied, stepping forward.

His expression began to change as his outrage melded with his confusion and deep disturbance, causing the Jewish young man's eyes to widen and his face to tremble. "What?" he exclaimed, his quaking voice reduced to a whisper. "What kind of…"

"We found a way," Bebe interrupted. "A new way. We can save everyone here…But we have to get Stan out of there first. You should do it by tonight."

"He doesn't want anyone else there when I do it," Kyle argued, his anger faded.

"Kyle, we _all_ have to be there," Craig replied. "Trust us." Butters cringed at the thought of witnessing such a thing but didn't speak up.

"Everyone has to be there," an awestruck and sorrowful Kyle whispered, unable to stop seeing Kenny's face and Butters' pain. His saddened eyes drifting towards the ground, the young boy felt a sense of hopelessness creep inside of him. "Something's coming, Butters," he declared, fearing the worst.

The skies were painted red as the final hours of sunlight neared. Craig, Bebe, Tweek, Cartman, Butters, Kyle, Wendy, and Stan all gathered in their little safe haven. As Wendy carefully tied his arm with a tourniquet, Stan began to weep in humiliation and weakness. Butters and Tweek stared at the ground in shame. Kyle continuously apologized to his dearest friend, accepting that there was nothing that could have been done. "Are you ready, angel?" Wendy quietly asked her boyfriend, who could only nod.

"I'm really sorry about all this, Stan," Kyle declared. "I broke my promise…Just close your eyes and it'll be over soon. Is there anything you need?"

Shaking his head, Stan whispered "No," in a weak and trembling voice. Quickly wiping a tear from his own eye, Kyle prepared his instruments, prayed, and approached his best friend. "Just close your eyes, Stan," the Jewish young man carefully instructed. "The feeling should be completely gone by now. Are you ready for me to start?" Stan nodded, and Kyle began his work.

The discoloration was slowly spreading and the arm had been without blood for far too long. Having scorched his blade in a small fire to rid it of any bacteria or impurities, Kyle pressed the point into Stan's inner elbow until it drew blood. Although most of the feeling was gone, Stan still winced through closed eyes while Wendy held his hand. Cutting deeper and deeper, Kyle began to breathe heavily, struggling not to break down. "Damn it!" he cried out as blood began to spurt following a mistake. "Craig, help me with this." As the black-haired boy ran to Kyle's side, Butters hid his face in his hands and wept as Tweek pulled him close. His eyes grew weak as Stan's head started to bob downward. The blood loss and growing pain was tearing him apart.

"Stay awake, Stan," Wendy pleaded. "It'll be over soon." Soon, the blood began to pool over the rocks, allowing Bebe to start collecting it in her water bottle.

After some time, the wound was blocked and the blood stopped its release. Stan's face was growing pale but he still lived. Making his way through the muscle tendons, Kyle felt his stomach flip. As the nerves were cut, Stan began to scream and cry out. Still, Wendy held him closer. Unable to witness his friends' suffering, Cartman ran outside and vomited behind a small rock. Tweek found it hard to breathe as the sense of being overcome filled him. Butters tightly covered his ears, reciting old bedtime stories as he sobbed. Then, after so long, the procedure ended in an instant, and Kyle pulled Stan as far from the rock as he could. Kyle and Wendy then laid the suffering little boy down and bandaged what was left of his left arm.

"Butters, can you get Eric?" Kyle asked, his eyes closed as he took a seat on a rock. "Tell him it's over and Stan's gonna be okay."

"He's unconscious but he's okay," Wendy declared, placing her jacket over the peaceful boy's body as a blanket. With that, the sun set, and all was dark.

Later that night, Tweek agreed to watch over Stan while he slept, allowing Wendy to leave the blood-soaked chamber. Kyle was sitting alone on a rock, wrapped in Kenny's coat, striking his chest every few seconds, and praying sorrowfully. "Kyle," Wendy said in a calm voice, sitting down beside her friend and placing her arm around him. "You did the best you could. This shouldn't have been up to you… Thank you. You saved him." Sobbing loudly and sucking in his cries, Kyle shook his head miserably. "…Where's the knife?" Kyle didn't answer. "Kyle, _where's_ the knife? Give it to me…Now." Taking the blade from his pocket, the redheaded boy handed Wendy the weapon and cried into his mittens. "Kenny…he's gone, isn't he?" Kyle sobbed, nodding his head. "We've gotta get off this island…As soon as we can."

"That's why I let them in," Kyle squeaked. "Bebe and Craig said they could save us…Get us off the island."

Three days passed, Stan didn't wake up, and Bebe and Craig weren't seen. Pouring some water into her friend's mouth, Wendy prayed for Stan to wake up soon. Kyle, Butters, Eric, and Tweek combed the beach for signs of their missing friends. The entire time, Kyle struggled to come up with an explanation for Kenny, but nothing came. "Let me tell you something," a voice like Cartman's mother called out, prompting Eric to turn around. However, nothing was there.

"Guys," Tweek shrieked, trying to calm himself. The party looked at their friend. "I'm sorry, I…I can't do this anymore. I'm gonna disappear…But it's not any of your faults. It just…it has to be this way." With that, the poor, timid little boy ran into the brush. Butters and Kyle chased after him, but Cartman heard the voice, and remembered his mother.

Come midnight that same night, Kyle and Butters returned to Wendy and Stan in tears. Cartman had killed himself and Tweek had done as he said. Making sure they'd never find him, the blond-haired boy felt the crushing pain return to his heart, ran away, laid his head against a soft rock, and died quietly and alone. It was all he could do to spare them. All that remained for sure were Stan, Wendy, Kyle, and Butters.

"When's Kenny coming back?" Butters asked Kyle, his voice weak and shaking.

Glancing over at Wendy, Kyle swallowed his pain. "Butters…" he began, praying for strength. "Kenny…isn't coming back. He said that he loves you…all of us…But they needed him in heaven to be another angel…They needed him more. I'm sorry, Butters. He didn't want to leave you, but they needed him. I have something for you, though." The Jewish child pulled out Kenny's hoodie and placed it over Butters' shoulders. "He would've wanted you to have it."

"Thanks, Kyle," the scared little boy answered with a weak smile.

Suddenly, Stan began to cough, and his friends rushed to his side. Opening his eyes, Stan gasped deeply. "They're gone," he exclaimed. Everyone grew concerned, looking at one another. "Craig and Bebe…they took my blood…I saw it in some kind of dream. They made a Black Mass with my blood and stuff from this horrible place…They're gone. The things I saw them doing…Atrocities. They were never gonna help us off this island…They wanted to save their souls. All that's left of them is their sin. Our friends are dead…We have to leave this place now!"

"Stan, this is crazy," Kyle exclaimed, his anger rising. "Besides, how the hell are we gonna leave here? There's nothing around for miles, we're weak and can't swim anymore, and no one's coming to get us."

"Then…" Butters replied, his heart sinking. "It's over? It's all over?"

"No fucking way," Stan answered. "We can get away from here?"

"How?" Wendy demanded.

"What would Brian Boitano do?" Stan answered, looking at Kyle. After a second of silence, the two friends laughed, and Cartman and Kenny joined them. "What would Brian Boitano do?" he sang.

"He'd kick some ass is what he'd do," Kyle sang on. Wendy and Butters found childhood comfort in those words.

"Do you guys believe in angels?" Stan asked. Butters stood up and agreed. "Do we still have that knife?"

Together, the four remaining children, with the help of inspiration and love of their old friends, cut down a large tree, hollowed it out, and climbed inside of it, just as the angels had showed them. As the night grew old, they pushed the makeshift raft into the water, hopped in close to one another, and let the winds carry them out to sea. Looking into the water, Butters saw Kenny floating peacefully under the waves. In some way, he smiled at them. Tweek, Clyde, Damien, Eric, and Red did the same. The four never looked back, even when the forsaken island was out of sight. Remnants of Craig and Bebe lived on as thoughtless beasts: The only beasts that could inhabitate that horrid island.

What lay ahead was uncertain, nightmares would come, and faith would be tested, and the past could never be forgotten, but there was something more waiting for them back home in South Park. "I could really go for some of Chef's Salisbury Steak," Butters declared as the mountains came into sight some time later. The four laughed together, knowing that Butters was warm under Kenny's coat.


End file.
